


Drifting Flames

by PurrV



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drug Withdrawal, Fluff and Angst, Forced Prostitution, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Organ Theft, Past Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3347885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurrV/pseuds/PurrV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck together in the slums of Cybertron, Drift and Rodimus work together to earn a better life, all the while Drift struggles to overcome his addictions and Rodimus wishes to move on from his old work. Soon they will get caught up in a whirlpool of angst, withdrawal and even a evil scheme where their very lives depend on exposing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this Fic based on prompts and pictures and ideas from DA and Tumblr.
> 
> In this AU Drift and Rodimus live and thrive in the slums, also called gutter mechs, since in the IDW comics they both come from crappy and rundown places. This Fic will also cover Drift over coming his addiction to drugs and a neat little plot where both he and Rodimus get caught up in a criminal organisation. Other than that it's a story about overcoming the darkness and striving for the light. Enjoy.

Drifting Flames - Prologue  
Transformers IDW/AU verse  
DriftxRodimus  
Warnings: Drug use, future robot love, emotional journey and all the shit in between that makes the ending worth it!

\--------------------------------------------

Today he finally saw it. He had heard the stories and listened to the dreamers and it was just how they describe. A vast open space where not even the tallest building could hope to touch, where it would just continue on for eternity and beyond eternity. Even as he reached out with his hand it was still in unreachable and he already knew it, he just wanted to try. All he could see was a small patch of it but for someone like him it was a dream come true. He still wished that he could see more of it but for someone like him, that was near enough impossible.

He laid there in the filth and grime gazing up through that small opening of pipes, buildings and walkways that were the only things that existed above him. Condensation and waste fluids dripped down upon him, running down his ruined body. Shadows of other mechs ran over him in flash, disappearing before he could acknowledge their presence. Occasionally mechs would pass by close to him and some would just step over him as if he wasn't there. They all ignored him, just like everything else did.

Who cared? No one, not even himself. He just laid there staring into that small patch of the impossible view. Glancing over at his arm, that was outstretched on the floor beside him, he stared at the empty circuit booster that stuck out of his exposed energon lines. Best way to take the stuff they say, shoving directly into your lines and let the rest take care of itself. He blew his last credits on it but it was so fucking worth it. All of his pain, fears, misery and problems just vanished and were replaced with a intoxicating false happiness that he gladly drowned in. If he could live like this forever, that would be a dream come true.

Despite the comfort it gave him, even in his current state, he still felt that agonising presence of emptiness. No matter how many boosters he forced into himself, that accursed feeling never left him alone. Nothing could fill that accursed void, absolutely nothing.

So he laid there, letting others walk over him without a care, letting punks kick him to satisfy their own twisted needs, letting the dirt from above fall on him because he didn't care... and neither did anyone else.

For a while everything was the same, until something changed. Someone was standing over him. He waited for the kick but it never came. Groggy and disoriented, he lifted his head to see who was curious enough to stare down at him and found himself looking into a pair of pure azure optics that showed not pity, not disgust nor hatred...

But hope.


	2. A New Day

Drifting Flames - A New Day  
Transformers IDW/AU verse  
DriftxRodimus  
Warnings: Drug use, future robot love, emotional journey and all the shit in between that makes the ending worth it!

\--------------------------------------------

It was dark. Why was it dark? His internal chronometer informed it was early but everything was pitch black. This wasn't right. Usually the light was on but it wasn't, or maybe it was on and he just went blind or something. Or maybe he forgot to turn if off last night and the fuse blew or maybe-

"Drift, how long are you planning on lying under there?"

After hearing his name being called out in a distorted way, it soon dawned on him that he had a thick blanket covering his face. Pulling the blanket off his face his optics squinted in the dim light. "Is it early?" he asked to be sure, his optics still adjusting.

"We still got time," came a reply. Looking over the cramped room he spotted someone standing over a silver container with a pipe sticking out of it. Energon dripped out of the pipe and into a makeshift cup that the other mech held. "It's a decent enough day but we still have lots to do, alright Drift?"

Drift blinked as he sat up and stretched his tired limbs, his joints snapping back into place. "Yeah I know," he replied with a yawn. A cup of energon was held before him and Drift looked up into the young but tired face who held it. "How much is left Rodimus?" 

The other mech, known as Rodimus, shrugged with a sheepish smile. "I think we got enough until tomorrow so we have to find a good one today, alright?" Frowning Drift took the cup and slowly sipped it. It did the job but the bitter after taste caused him to grimace. He wasn't the only one, Rodimus downed his portion in one go but the foul taste still got him. "No matter how much we drink this stuff we are never going to get used to that awful kick," he laughed, acting as optimistic as always.

Drift formed a small smile in response but deep down it made him miserable. Drinking this putrid filth made him wish he could destroy his own taste components and rip out his own glossa. Sadly this cheap energon, if you could even call it that, was all they could afford and if they wanted to continue to see another day, their only option was to drink it. Drift just wished it didn't have that Primus forsaken aftertaste.

After finishing their energon the pair of them put away their makeshift berth, and once they checked their precious valuables were carefully hidden away they climbed out of the large unused waste pipe that was their home. Looking around Drift sighed. All around him were crummy shacks, cracked pipelines and smelly holes that were homes to other mechs like them. Some huddled together, some stumbled about and some just laid there, waiting for Primus knows what to happen. They all lived in this dark section under Dead End where it was once a water line for the whole slums but was now forgotten... like the rest of them. 

Before heading off Rodimus ran over to a pipe that was leaking water high above them and stood under it, hissing as the cold water hit his frame. Every morning he did this and Drift had no idea why. "Why do you do that?" asked Drift, "Why bother cleaning, you're just going to get dirty again."

Rodimus pouted at him. "I just like feeling clean at the start of the day." He then walked over to Drift, grabbing his arm and tugging him towards the leaking water. "Come on, you too," he ordered.

Groaning in displeasure, Drift yielded to Rodimus and stood under the leaking water with him. It did the job and cleaned away years of dirt and grime but it was cold and wasn't as clean as he had previously wondered. Rodimus would assist in wiping away the dirt on his back, claiming that Drift looked better with his white finish. The sad thing about having a white body was that it was easy to get dirty, one of the reasons Drift saw little point in cleaning. Rodimus' red and golden frame was also easy to stain but every single morning he cleaned himself, almost as if it was vital to his life.

After that little clean up, they then made their way through the broken streets and the zigzag pathways, eventually striding through the bustling market streets. For a market located deep in Dead End, it certainly had variety including the sales of items from up top, but of course the prices for them were outrageous. If you had the credits you could afford it, but those who lived in the Cybertronian slums like Dead End found it hard to get a decent job with a decent wage. Thankfully both Drift and Rodimus had a way of earning credits.

They reached their destination at last and it seemed they came early. "It hasn't dropped down yet," stated Rodimus, looking around the large round chamber. A few mechs say about, waiting for something. "Think there'll be any good ones today?" 

Drift shrugged before sitting down. "Last time we got lucky," he responded, tapping his fingers on his thighs. "Who knows, maybe we'll get a decent one with a decent pay? Or we'll get an incredibly hard one with poor pay."

Rodimus playfully kicked him on the side. "Oh come on, the last one wasn't that bad."

"We had to wade through oil waste to find some lousy trinket," retorted Drift. "It took us two days until we found it, and all because some idiot dropped it down a waste pipe for a laugh."

"True, but at least we got a decent pay." Rodimus stretched his upper limbs, moaning pleasurably as his stiff joints snapped into more comfortable positions. "We able to afford the good stuff after that," he said, kicking a nearby pebble. "Shame we drank it all."

Drift shuffled his feet in the dusty floor. "Yeah, and now the old coot has raised the price on it again. Energon nowadays is so expensive."

Without a word, Rodimus sat down next to him and nudged him gently. "What's with you today?" Looking over at his friend, Dtift could see the concern in his optics. "You're usually the bright and cheerful one," snorted Rodimus, trying to make it sound funny. "Why are so glum today?"

Drift leaned back until his back hit a wall. "I dunno, just annoyed that's all," he replied. 

Rodimus continued to look concerned and he watched as Drift stared up into the darkness. "Trying to see it again?" he asked, wanting to change the subject quickly.

"I saw it one time. Just a bit of it but I saw it," sighed Drift, staring up at the colossal buildings that towered over them. "It was right there and when I saw it I knew it just had to be it." Drift then raised his hand towards the darkness. "I thought I could touch it."

"You can't see the sky down here Drift," chuckled Rodimus. "We're too far down and those towers are too damn high. Heck, I heard that even if you go a few miles up you still can't see it."

"Then how come you believed me the first time I told you?" questioned Drift, giving Rodimus a playful smile. 

Rodimus shrugged. "I dunno, you just made it sound like... like it really existed." Before Drift could say anything else, a loud metal groaning and screeching suddenly filled the air. Everyone in the area suddenly became alert and both Drift and Rodimus stood up. "About time," mused Rodimus.

Above them a large block of metal was lowered to the ground. It descended slowly from far above, the chains rattling and the cables groaning as it came lower and lower. Mechs started to gather around where it was set to drop, all of them anxious as it came down towards them. Rodimus and Drift remained where they were and watched. Soon the large block was right above them and upon its rusted frame there were hundreds of metal sheets, with words etched upon them. As soon as it was low enough, some of the mechs near it jumped to rip off the metal sheets. Soon everyone was pushing and shoving in a chaotic attempt to grab one of the metal sheets.

As the squabble continued, Drift looked over at Rodimus. "Try and get a good one this time," he asked.

Merely grinning at him, Rodimus gave him a pat on the shoulder before jogging over to the crowd. Drift watched as he climbed up on a nearby pillar and reached out for a lone chain that hanged from above. Once in his hand, Rodimus used it to swing over the crowds and latched onto the rusted block. He studied each metal sheet, scaling the block to inspect every last one, until at last one caught his interest and he ripped it off. He then used the chain to swing back over the crowds and jumped, rolling as he hit the ground. Drift walked over, not too worried if his friend had hurt himself since he had a habit of climbing up and leaping off things, thus he was used to it.

Rodimus wiped the dirt off his frame and held up the metal sheet. "This one has a good pay," he exclaimed, handing it over to Drift. Drift stared at it and frowned.

Wanted: four or more decent Turbofoxes. Ten credits per Turbofox. Contact Leadarm on completion.

Drift stared up at Rodimus, not at all pleased with the task. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to catch a Turbofox! This job will take us weeks!"

Rodimus just threw him his signature grin. "Ah, but all we have to do is find a nest and we're all set." He then patted Drift on the helm. "It's not my fault you hate them."

"I don't hate them," retorted Drift, "I just don't like it when they naw on my feet whilst I sleep."

Rolling his optics, Rodimus pulled his friend by the arm and lead him onward. "Let's get to it then, the more we catch the more credits we get." 

Drift said nothing and allowed Rodimus to lead him on.


	3. Same shit, different day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings so far: Drift gets a craving for drugs and Rodimus talks about his past as a prostitute. Past violence and gore but nothing too graphic.

Drifting Flames - Same shit, different day  
Transformers IDW/AU verse  
DriftxRodimus  
Warnings: Drug use, future robot love, emotional journey and all the shit in between that makes the ending worth it!

\--------------------------------------------

Walking up the metal streets, Rodimus and Drift carried their precious cargo as they headed for the skylift. It wasn't the official name of the elevator that bridged their slums to the upper world but those in Dead End just called it that because that's were it headed. Drift stared up at it as it vanished into the void above him. He had thought about getting on it before but the only way you can get in the skylift was to pass the heavy security and have a valid visa chip present. Without the visa chip the skylift wouldn't budge, so the citizens of Dead End could only look as visitors descended from above and ascended freely.

"Ok, this Leadarm said he'd meet us here," explained Rodimus, snapping Drift out of his daydream. 

"He better pay us good for this," grumbled Drift, shaking the box he held with malice. "These fragging rascals took my finger off." He raised his left hand, showing off his missing index finger.

"Once we get our pay, we'll stop by Spare Parts to get you a new one," suggested Rodimus.

"Still doesn't change the fact it was bitten off," retorted Drift, shaking the box again when something within it growled. "That and look at this scratch!" Drift pointed to the scar along his upper cheek. "This will take weeks to heal."

"Oh hush," cooed Rodinus, patting him on the helm. "You know what they say about scars? They make you look dangerous and hot." That made Drift blush a little.

The two walked about the Skylift entrance with care, spying a few mechs from above hanging about. Drift could not help but stare at their polished armour and their fancy accessories, wondering why on Cybertron would anyone wear such things. One of them was even wearing a cape, which Rodimus seemed to like. It must have been expensive since the material to craft such garments came off world. Lucky for some.

Rodimus was keeping his optics peeled for their contact. He would stop a few feet before a mech from above and hold up the metal sheet. If no response was given he would move on to the next. They had to do this a few times until at last someone responded. Like his name suggested, Leadarm had very sturdy looking arms and a decent looking frame. He bore a mask and a visor so the two mechs couldn't tell if he was annoyed or what. He just stood there as they approached him.

Standing right in front of him, Rodimus held up the metal sheet. "Leadarm right? We got your Turbofoxes." Nudging Drift, the white mech stepped forward with the box. "We got five of 'em, if that pleases you."

Leadarm took the box and peered in through a slit. The Turbofoxes snarled and clawed inside their prison. "Decent enough condition," he finally said. "Where did you get them?"

"Does it matter?" sneered Drift, wanting the transaction to end.

"My boss needs them for breeding and he likes to know where they come from. Cataloging and all that crap," replied Leadarm.

"If you must know, we caught all of them around the outskirts of Dead End," explained Rodimus. "Took us a couple of days, and we suffered some damages-" He grabbed Drift's hand and held it up before their client "-so I think we both earned a tip."

Leadarm merely stared at the pair of them for a moment, before he said, "you bagged me five so that's fifty credits. And I suppose I could give you five credits each as a bonus."

Drift seemed annoyed with the amount of their tip, but before he could say anything, Rodimus stepped forward. "Very gracious of you, thanks." He held out his hand and soon it grasped sixty credits. Leadarm then took his cargo and headed back to the skylift, the transaction completed.

"Five credits each?" mumbled Drift, kicking a wall in frustration. "Does he have any idea how much it costs to get a new limb and get it fitted down here?"

"I know but in case you forgot I know basic limb reattachment," piped Rodimus, wrapping an arm around Drift's shoulders and shaking him positively. "Let's get you a new finger and I'll put it on for you, ok?"

Drift sighed and gave in, leaving the skylift with Rodimus and heading for Junk City, a long winding street where merchants sold odds and ends of every kind. It was bustling as normal, with mechs seeking out what they needed. They had everything from engine parts to scrap metal to rusted tools. Anything you need, the merchants of Junk City provided, for a high fee of course. Rodimus and Drift inspected every stall that sold body parts, trying to find the right finger for Drift's hand.

"This one looks about right," mused Rodimus as he pulled out a dark finger from a jar filled with them. "A little dented but it'll do." He sized it up against Drift's hand to be sure. It was slightly longer and a bit light in colour compared to the rest of his hand, but it was the best they could do. Drift wasn't too fussed as long as he had four fingers and a thumb on each hand. 

As Rodimus began to haggle the stall owner for a better price, Drift looked around the market. He had been here so many times but every time he came here there was always something different. In one stall someone was bleeding out Turbofoxes energon and selling it, claiming it was twenty times better than regular energon. In another stall someone was selling strangely crafted ornaments, some shaped like Matrix of Primus and was selling quite well, considering the Primus religion was the most popular religion on all of Cybertron. He even had one shaped as the current Prime, Nova and that one was selling quite well too. Why anyone needed such trinkets was beyond Drift.

Looking around some more, his optics landed on a pair who stood in an alleyway. Nothing special about either of them, they just caught his attention for a mere second. He was about to look away when one of the ally mechs pulled something out of his subspace, and all of a sudden Drift found he could not look away. 

In his hand was a circuit booster, a premium type. 

Around him the world had ceased to be as Drift stared at that little cylinder, filled with electrons and chemicals that would send one into a mind blowing experience. He could feel that familiar hunger grow within him, that desire to escape from the physical world and into a whole new world of bizarre wonder and grotesque enchantment. Every energon line within him began to burn, his oral cavity began to produce excessive fluids and his arms shivered in anticipation. Everything was starting to feel hot, his body started to feel heavy and coolant started to dribble down his face. He felt sick but in a strange good way. Reaching out his hands towards it, the circuit booster seemed to draw closer to him. His arm grew longer and the circuit booster drew closer and closer.

"Drift!"

A dirty golden hand suddenly clasped itself around his arm and all of a sudden Drift found himself back in reality. Looking back at the ally, the two mechs had already exchanged the circuit booster for a small sum of credits and we're now going their separate ways. Looking to his left, he saw Rodimus glaring at him with optics full of worry and a hint of fear.

"Are you ok?" calmly asked Rodimus, releasing his hold on Drift.

Drift didn't realise how hot he had become. Steam rose from his sweaty frame and his venting had become rapid and shallow. His hands were shaking and his legs felt weak, overall he didn't feel good. "Just... warm," he replied.

Rodimus continued to stare at him with concern until he changed the subject. "Well I got you a good deal on this finger," he chirped, waving the newly acquired finger about. "Swindled this down from ten to five credits! Am I good or what?"

Smiling weakly, Drift thanked him. Deep down however he felt the familiar sensation of detest and misery, slowly growing inside.

\--------

Sitting atop a large pipeline that overlooked Dead End, Drift sat quietly as Rodimus attached his new finger. Rodimus wanted to fix Drift's hand in a less dull atmosphere and up here one could see the whole of Dead End, it was only a shame that even up that high they couldn't see the sky far above.

Drift was doing his best not to flinch as Rodimus pulled and pried the open nerve wiring in his hand. "How do you know what you're doing?" questioned Drift, wanting the silence between them to end. Rodimus hadn't said a word since the incident back at the market.

"Oh you know," replied Rodimus, "back in my old job I had to learn this sort of thing."

Drift seemed confused with that logic. "Wait a sec, why did a pros-" Rodimus' optics darted upwards and stared at Drift, who immediately realised that he was about to say something he shouldn't have said. "-I mean, why did a mech like you had to learn something like this?"

Rodimus smiled sadly as he looked back down at Drift's hand. "I had some weird clients back then," he mused. "One of them had a thing for cutting off fingers whilst doing it. Heck there was this one guy who could only do it if I was in some sort of pain."

Despite how casual he made it sound, Drift was appalled that someone would do such a thing to his friend. "Didn't your boss get mad?" he asked. "Surely he would have been concerned if someone had hurt you."

"No, he didn't," muttered Rodimus, tugging at a wire. "He advertised the place as a haven where your twisted desires could come true. Well, except that one time when some guy broke my hips. He had to pay a fortune for the surgery."

Rodimus didn't seem at all pleased about the subject matter, despite the oddly cheerful way he talked about it, so Drift tried to change it quickly. "You got away from there at least, and came all the way here, where no one can find you."

"Yeah, I was worried at first that they'd track me down," chuckled Rodimus, who seemed amused with the topic. "But it's been over four months and I haven't heard from them since."

Drift could still see that sad look upon Rodimus' smiling face. There was a question he had been dying to ask but until now he never wanted to say it. "Did you... hate it?" Rodimus now looked up, a surprised expression showing. "It's just, most mechs who do what you used to do say it's fun, but I wasn't sure if-"

"I hated it." The air around them was silent for a moment and Drift was now worried he struck a nerve. Rodimus looked angry as he spoke. "Grabbing me before I even took my first step, auctioning me off before I even learned to speak and losing my valve virginity before I even knew what it meant to interface. I don't know why anybody would enjoy it, because I hated it."

It was both impressive and sad that whilst Rodimus spoke of his past, he was still in the middle of installing Drift's new finger. It made the white mech wonder if Rodimus learnt to do this whilst in the fit of unleashed emotions. "I didn't mean to bring it up," he muttered.

"It's fine," sighed Rodimus, "I needed to vent anyway. Sorry Drift, the last thing you want to hear is an ex-hooker sobbing about the old days." He pulled a wire a little hard as he attached it to the loose wiring in the new finger. "Besides I learned that I can't change the past, but I can make my own future." A nice morale to live by and one Drift should know, after all he was the one who said it all the time.

"Why do you ask me now?" asked Rodimus. "You've known I was a prostitute the moment we met, so why ask me that now?"

Drift shrugged. "I just thought it was personal question and I was a little curious." He sighed as he tried to think of a way to redeem himself. "I'm glad you're not one anymore, you're too nice to be one."

Rodimus blushed a little but focused on his task. Apparently no one had ever said that sort of thing to him before. "Since we're on the topic," continued Rodimus, "did you enjoy taking drugs?"

Drift flinched. "That's a... a hard one to answer," he muttered.

Rodimus wasn't satisfied with that answer. "Ok, but why did you start doing them in the first place?" 

That question also stumped Drift, for he couldn't even recall when he had his first circuit booster. "I just remembered that I was so sick of everything, and some guy gave me one and said it would wash all my worries away." He sighed as he could not even recall the one who gave it to him. "Since then I was hooked."

"Not anymore," retorted Rodimus. "Now you're three months sober and you've already gotten past the worst of it."

"Don't remind me," heaved Drift, "unable to sleep for three days straight and sweating buckets of coolant."

"And the hissy fits," reminded Rodimus.

"And the hissy fits," repeated Drift, rolling his optics.

"But you've done well, right?" said Rodimus.

Drift wanted to agree but the memory of what happened at the market surfaced. "I almost lost it again."

"It was a moment of weakness," reassured Rodimus, "everyone has them so don't go doubting yourself now."

"I know, but-"

"No buts!" snapped Rodimus, "You just felt a little weak but its not gonna happen again, right?" Drift cringed as Rodimus stared daggers of reassurance at him, so he nodded. "Good, and now I think... I... got it!" With one last snap of metal the new finger was in place. "Flex it a little," ordered Rodimus.

Drift wiggles his fingers and clutched his hand. "As good as new," he said, giving Rodimus a little wave. Rodimus gave him a smug look. If there was one thing Drift knew about Rodimus it was that he was always proud of himself when he got the job done. Drift was just glad he had all four fingers again.

"Well come on," said Rodimus with a yawn, "we still have some shopping to do before home time."

"Think we earned enough for a single round at Foulhead's?" queried Drift, standing up.

"Of course we earned enough," chuckled Rodimus. "I mean catching Turbofoxes was no easy task and we got a tip for it."

"Some tip," muttered Drift in a sarcastic way. "Next time pick a job that doesn't involve catching rabid Turbofoxes."

Rodimus gave Drift a sly grin. "Next time I'll give you to him," he teased. "I mean you almost look like one." He then grabbed Drift's audial fins and gave them a playful tug.

Drift growled, mimicking the sound a Turbofox made, and tickled his friend. Rodimus snorted with laughter as he pushed him away. "Come on," he giggled, "let's get the shopping done and then we can drink!" 

The two sped off, laughing above the dirty streets of their home.


	4. Morale Booster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings so far: Shameless flirting, sexual references, drug references and mention of applying cream to private areas.

Drifting Flames - Morale Booster  
Transformers IDW/AU verse  
DriftxRodimus  
Warnings: Drug use, future robot love, emotional journey and all the shit in between that makes the ending worth it!

\--------------------------------------------

It was getting late as Drift and Rodimus arrived to their final destination of the day. They had already completed their shopping for their necessities, such as ointment for Rodimus, a special medicine for Drift, along with a canister of regular energon that should last them a week. So far, out of their sixty credits, they had fifteen left and they both agreed it wouldn't hurt to have a single round or two at Foulhead's. Drift believed they earned it. 

Foulhead's Bar. That was where they were, outside a run down bar that served cheap energon cocktails and decent electron brews. Out of all the bars in Dead End, this one at least had a decent receiver with some decent networks, along with chairs and tables that didn't break the moment you touched them. The decorations weren't too bad either, fuse tubes that glowed different colours and strange statues that must have fallen from the cities above. The only thing that would drive one away from this particular bar was it's host, the infamous Foulhead. He was a slimy old codger who made lewd comments to all his patrons but everyone put up with it, for it was a small price to pay to get a decent round of drinks.

Rodimus and Drift were regulars so they were used to Foulhead and his crude ways., though Rodimus pointed out that if the "slime spewer" so much as touch him he would rip off his interfacing equipment. Entering the establishment they found that it was full of the usual crowd, some getting drunk out of their minds and others glued to the receiver. Foulhead was serving his unique cocktails but paused when he noticed who walked in.

"Well if it ain't the whore and the junkie," he cheered, giving them his signature broken grin. "Come on in and buy my drinks or get the hell out."

The two mechs looked at each other and rolled their optics. That wasn't the worst they had been called by the bar owner, but they were used to it. They sat at their usual spot by the bar, their favourite drinks already in front of them. Foulhead may be the lowest of low but he was good at his job. 

"You know, Foulhead," started Drift, "you would get a lot more customers if you started keeping tabs."

Foulhead sneered at him. "What, so you can get free drinks and use your credits to buy more fucking boosters while I go broke? I think not, you booster sucking leech." Drift sighed as Foulhead turned his attention to Rodimus. "Though I might accept a different kind of payment from your friend here, if you know what I mean?" he slurred, giving Rodimus a look filled with obvious lust.

"In your fucking dreams," spat Rodimus.

"Oh come now Roddy," purred Foulhead, leaning over his bar to get closer to Rodimus. "One quick round with me and you'll get free drinks for life. I might even get your friend here some quality circuit boosters."

Rodimus just stared at him, not at all intimidated. "I'd rather jump in a smelting pit than let you fuck me," he growled. "Now let us drink in peace." Foulhead snarled, muttering "fucking spike sucking whore," as he left them alone.

"Makes me wonder if we should find a new bar," pondered Drift aloud, slowly sipping his brew.

"I'd give anything for a bar where he wasn't the bartender," hissed Rodimus. "Unfortunately we live in Dead End and this bar is the only decent bar Dead End has to offer." Sad but true. All the other bars either sold sludge or you'd have to pay a fee to enter.

"Remember when we first came here," started Drift, suddenly recalling an amusing memory. "He thought you were a hooker he hired and I was an extra."

Rodimus suddenly snorted as he too recalled the event from long ago. "The slag head said something about you not looking slutty enough," he chortled. "You suddenly got offended and punched him the face."

"I think I was mad he thought I was a whore," mused Drift.

"Oh, and how'd you think I felt?" pouted Rodimus, folding his arms and huffing.

Drift bit his lip and quickly turned the conversation around. "You did punch him too when he said that he'll charge extra if you hit me."

"Eh, that slagger had it coming," spat Rodimus. "At least he's too scared to come anywhere near me when you're around."

"You more dangerous when I'm not around." Drift took another sip of his drink. "You attacked that dealer who stalked me, and from what I heard he fled Dead End."

Rodimus gave him a cocky smile. "I gave him a warning, not my fault he failed to acknowledge it."

The two continued to consume their drinks as the bar started to fill up with more customers, all who got a rude greeting from its host.

"Why the hell is he so rude to everyone?" growled Rodimus.

"Because he knows he runs the only decent bar in Dead End, so he can be as rude as he wants, they'll just keep coming back," answered Drift.

Rodimus hated to admit it but it was all true. "You know what I think?" he said suddenly. "I think you and me should open up our own bar."

Drift suddenly snorted with laughter but he spotted that serious look in Rodimus' optics. "You're serious?" 

"Why not? It can't be that hard," chirped Rodimus, drifting off into his dreamland. "All we need is a big building, an energon supplier, and some bar stools."

"And a receiver," suggested Drift.

"A big receiver," corrected Rodimus, "bigger than that one, and with more channels."

"Maybe a music system?" pondered Drift, not realising he was getting into the whole idea.

"With a DJ!" exclaimed Rodimus, his whole face lit up. "And we can serve snacks, and come up with all sorts of cocktails."

"We would need decorations and decent lighting."

"I'm thinking neon lights that change colour, with mirror spheres and light up floors. I heard there are floors that light up as you walk over them."

"And a energon fountain, right before everyone enters." 

"With mesh curtains hanging from the ceiling."

"Oh and a VIP section, I heard you need one of those in a good bar."

"It would make all other VIP sections look like crap!"

Drift laughed as Rodimus continued to talk of their dream bar. "What would I do then?" he asked.

"You would be behind the bar serving drinks, of course," replied Rodimus. "I would be the host, welcoming our guests in."

"How come you get to be the host?" pouted Drift.

"I'm prettier then you," teased Rodimus.

"They might want a handsome host, not a pretty one," argued Drift, "and besides if you're behind the bar, mechs would constantly buy drinks from you."

"True," mused Rodimus, "or we can just swap jobs every now and then."

"Alright then, what would we call it?" queried Drift. 

"Oh it has to be catchy name, one that everyone will remember," answered Rodimus. "Maybe something like R&D?"

"That sounds silly," muttered Drift, "what about, Our Stop?"

"What kind of name is that?" snapped Rodimus, "No way in hell would anyone remember that stupid name."

Drift cringed. "Ok then, what would you suggest?"

"I'm... I'm gonna have to think about it," sighed Rodimus in defeat. "Still I guess the name can wait till after we opened it."

Before Rodimus could continue, someone nudged him and told him to hush. The two mechs looked over to see a few mechs, clutching their Primus charms with all their might, were watching some big new story over the receiver.

"Our top story at present is, of course, the concern over Nova Prime's health," informed the media mech on the screen. "The 24th Prime in the Primus lineage has had health problems of late, though not life threatening it does mean he will have to limit his public appearances. A mass crowd of his followers has gathered outside Iacon's Medical Institute to wish him a fast recovery. More on the scene."

The screen then displayed a crowd so big that one would think that Cybertron couldn't possibly hold so many mechs. The crowd was screaming and cheering, holding up Primus banners and torches, all in honour of their beloved Prime. 

The screen continued to scan the crowd as someone spoke. "I am standing outside the Medical Institute of Iacon, where Nova Prime is having special treatment for his unique condition. As you can see the streets are crowded with his followers, all who have come to wish he makes a speedy recovery and to pray for him. Though he is in no life threatening position, Nova Prime will have to undertake regular treatments and long periods of rest which will mean he will no longer attend public events or attend the senate gathering. His successor, Nominus, has stated that this could go on for a few centuries, but as tradition goes he will not take the title of Prime until Nova Prime has passed. He will however take on some of his duties, as best he can. Back to you at the studio."

The screen then displayed the media mech from before. "Although it is true Nova Prime will not recover for a few centuries, there has been talk that his recovery could be sped up, and this has been confirmed by-"

"Turn that scrap off already," someone in the bar screamed, throwing an empty glass at the screen. 

The screen suddenly displayed static and Foulhead roared with rage. "Do you have any idea how much that fucking cost me?" he screamed. "You're paying for that!"

The mechs who had been watching the broadcast were also angry. "How dare you, you faithless scrap! We wanted to see our Prime!"

"Ha, like he would ever want to see you lot," shouted another bar patron. 

"Come say that to my face, you slag eater!"

"Eat sludge, you waste of metal!"

Within the span of a minute or less, a full scale bar fight suddenly erupted within the establishment, with everyone either throwing glasses or throwing punches. Smaller mechs flew across the air as they were thrown at larger mechs, whilst the larger mechs slammed their smaller opponents all over the room, crushing them against walls or tables. Foulhead had already pulled out his blaster and fired off a few rounds in an attempt to cease the fight, but everyone ignored him. Furniture broke as they were used as weapons, and already there were casualties.

Drift and Rodimus looked at each other as the fighting continued around them. "Time to leave?" suggested Drift. "Time to leave," agreed Rodimus.

The two mechs fled the bar as quickly as possible and just in time, for the enforcers had arrived in full force to break the fighting up. The two snuck away but paused for a moment as they watched as a particularly big red and blue one just charged in to stop the fight, easily pushing the squabbling bar patrons aside as if they were made of a light aluminium. A moment later three mechs with cuffs were tossed out of the bar, and more began to follow. Not wanting to stick around in case they got in trouble, they proceeded to walk home.

"Foulhead's hasn't a fight in while," laughed Rodimus, wiping off some shattered glass that fell between his seams. "He's gonna be so mad when he gets fined for firing off that unlicensed weapon."

"How do you know it was unlicensed?" asked Drift.

"The slagger was trying to use it to woo me over," muttered Rodimus. "Kept going on and on that he would convince the enforcers it was just there as a decoration and it wasn't really loaded."

The pair laughed as they carried on. "Can't believe the whole thing kicked off over the Prime," said Drift with a laugh. "Those Prime lovers can get real weird sometimes."

"You can't blame them though," sighed Rodimus. "They were just standing up for what they believed in." 

Drift gave Rodimus a funny look. "Don't tell me you worship Primus and the Prime's too?"

"No," replied Rodimus, "but I have prayed to them before. I know it sounds silly but it helped me a little. Of course nothing happened but it just made me feel better." He looked over at Drift with a gentle gaze. "Haven't you prayed to Primus before?"

"I might have," replied Drift, "but I don't think it ever helped. It certainly never made me feel better."

"Is that why you took the drugs?" asked Rodimus.

"No, but I remember a Primus priest used me as an example of what happened if I rejected faith." Drift sighed as he scratched off some chipped paint. "It's a little sad though that mechs worship that stuff down here. It doesn't exactly help them."

"I guess the mechs down here need it, a little faith to keep them going," said Rodimus, looking up at the towers that loomed over them. "Some mechs need to believe in something that gives them a purpose in life. As long as they have something to cling on to then they can keep going. Some mechs don't need it but there are those who have to believe or else they lose hope."

Drift smirked as Rodimus finished. "You could pass yourself off as a Primus priest with that little sermon you just gave."

Rodimus laughed and pushed him. "I think they would rather come to see me, not listen," he snickered. "Besides we have something to cling onto, right?"

Drift appeared puzzled upon hearing this. "What do you mean?"

"Our bar silly," laughed Rodimus.

Drift replied with an, "oh," and smiled as Rodimus continued to talk about it, despite Drift knowing that there was no way they could create such a place down here.

The two continued to chat and joke about their day so far until they reached their little home. Their neighbourhood was quiet as normal, only more dirt and grime and possibly some new residents. The water still leaked from the pipe outside and it was still cold and damp on the inside. Once back inside their home, the two carried out their final tasks for the day. Rodimus tinkered with a fuse until it glowed enough for them to see and Drift pulled out their berth. They placed their new canister of energon on a table, grabbed their old one and hanged it upside down so the last few drops would eventually spill into the new batch. 

"Um, Drift?"

Drift looked up to see Rodimus was sitting on a box with his ointment and staring at him with an unsure expression. "Ah," was all that Drift said and turned his back to his friend. 

Trying to ignore what Rodimus was doing, Drift tried to lose himself in his thoughts. He felt bad for Rodimus, having to put that stuff around his valve every night. The first time he applied it to himself, Drift walked in on it and there was a lot of freaking out. Rodimus then explained that he was carrying an ITD, an Interface Transmitted Disease he caught at his old job. He fled before he could get it treated and the only way to calm the burning sensation he felt in his private areas was to apply a cheap ointment. It wouldn't get rid of the ITD but it helped. The only way to get it treated correctly was to see a medic but raising 500 credits between them would take a very long time.

Drift himself had to take a special detox medicine. Whilst Rodimus treated himself, Drift pulled out the bottle they had purchased that day. Sine Drift abused himself with a countless number of drugs, he had to take this medicine to help detox his system. He had taken so much drugs in a short span, he had difficulty functioning throughout the day. He would be unable to walk, unable to tell reality apart from fantasy, and get violent without warning. Rodimus bought him his first bottle and said it would help him during his withdrawal. Taking a quick swig from the bottle, Drift gagged as the bitter fluid spilled down his throat. It tasted like scrap but it helped.

"I'm finished Drift."

Drift looked over his shoulder, just in time to see Rodimus fasten his interface panel in place. "Feeling better?" asked Drift.

"The burning is gone, so yeah I feel a little better," said Rodimus with a smile. "How was the medicine?"

"Bitter as always," muttered Drift, placing the bottle on a makeshift shelf.

After a quick little tidy up, Rodimus and Drift climbed into their berth. The berth was big enough for them to recharge in their own personal space, but Drift still felt strange sharing a berth with Rodimus. It wasn't fear out of catching his ITD, nor the belief that Rodimus was going to try and seduce him, but it was just that Drift had never allowed himself to be so vulnerable to another. He had always kept up his guard, for it was the only way to survive in Dead End. Someone may offer you to share their home, share their energon, but when you wake up the next day you would find your credits stolen or worse. Despite knowing Rodimus for a while, it still felt odd to be so close to someone and let your guard down.

He wondered if Rodimus felt the same way.


	5. Last Resorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS SO FAR: Loss of a limb, slight gore, attempted self-forced prostitution, needle in the interface port, near death

Drifting Flames - Last resorts  
Transformers IDW/AU verse  
DriftxRodimus  
Warnings: Drug use, future robot love, emotional journey and all the shit in between that makes the ending worth it!

\--------------------------------------------

Walking through the rust covered pipelines, deep down beneath the slums, Rodimus and Drift trudged through the thick oil and piles of garbage that submerged their pedes. The stench of the place nearly made Rodimus purge a few times and Drift needed to stop every now and then to settle his unstable system. Being down here made them slightly claustrophobic, for it was easy to get lost in a place like this. The only reason they were down here was for a job that seemed easy, and had decent payout, but now Drift was having second thoughts.

"Starting to regret this," grunted Drift, kicking an empty box that laid before him.

"All we have to do is remove some debris from a vent and that's it, job done," explained Rodimus, trying to make the job sound easy than it really was. "It's not that far now. They said it was around this section."

Drift made a disgusted sound when the rusted corpse of something floated nearby. "Why couldn't they come down here and do it?"

"You know how it works," sighed Rodimus. "They don't want to come down to our level, so they get the likes of us to do it, whilst they sit around on their expanding aft plates and drink their sweet energon."

"We better get a bonus for this," groaned Drift, as he stepped over the unidentifiable corpse.

They continued walking on until they reached a large open room with many passages that split off into different directions. Motionless fans stood within each passage and the two mechs investigated each one. Their job was to locate a fan that wasn't working and fix it. Simple enough but it was no easy task. All they were told was that a vent wasn't functioning correctly for some reason, and that they would be paid handsomely if they found out why. The most likely explanation was that some debris got caught in the vent, so all they had to do was remove it.

Rodimus sighed as each vent they checked seemed ok. "He definitely said it was around here," he mused. "I mean they shut down the whole area so we can remove it, so it has to be around here somewhere."

Drift walked around and his optics fell on the large round hole in the middle of the room. He approached it, hoping to Primus that he was wrong with his assumption. Peering down, he frowned with what he saw. "Found it," he said in a flat tone.

Rodimus walked over and peered down, frowning himself when he spotted a piece of debris trapped in a vent, right underneath another one. "I am so demanding a huge bonus for this," he grumbled, grabbing the coil of wire he had brought with him.

"I'll go," volunteered Drift, taking the wire from Rodimus.

"Are you sure?" asked Rodimus, sounding concerned.

"I am the lightest," boasted Drift, wrapping the wire around himself.

"Are you saying I'm heavy?" pouted Rodimus.

Drift grimaced, and took care with what he would say next. "No, you are not heavy," he stated. "I'm just the lightest out of the two of us."

Rodimus narrowed his optics at him. "That still sounds like you're calling me heavy."

"You're not heavy, you're just..." Drift tried to find the right word. "Robust?"

"Robust?!" snapped Rodimus, "that's just a nicer word for heavy!"

Drift groaned as he rubbed his closed optics. "Look, I'm a little thinner and lighter than you, can you just accept that so we can get on with this?"

Rodimus folded his arms and huffed angrily. "I'm not heavy," he muttered.

Drift sighed, rolling his optics as he handed Rodimus the other end of the wire. Taking extra care, the white mech carefully lowered himself into the vertical hole. Ridimus held onto the wire with all his strength, slowly lowering it so Drift get descend more. Drift felt a little sick as he stared down, passing the first vent with no trouble. Upon reaching the second vent, he proceeded to kick the debris off.

"Hurry up," demanded Rodimus. "You're starting to get heavy."

"I'm not heavy," shouted Drift, his voice echoing down the hole. "You're just getting weak."

"I can drop you, you know," warned Rodimus, a playful tune present in his voice.

"Can you wait until I'm done," grunted Drift, kicking the debris one last time. "Got it," he cried triumphantly.

"I noticed," replied Rodimus, smirking a little. At least the job was done and they could report back. As Rodimus pulled the wire back up, a whirring sound caught his attention. Looking up, he spotted that one of the vents was coming back online, the fan blades began to spin, faster and faster until it was a blur. The vent next to it suddenly switched on, followed by the next one and the next one. Rodimus gaped in horror. "Drift!" he screamed. "Get back up here quick! They just turned them back on!"

Drift's face turned whiter than his own paint job. "I thought they were gonna turn them on when we reported back!" he shouted.

"Just back up here before the one above you turns on," barked Rodimus, pulling the wire as fast as he could.

Realising that the fan above him could turn on any second, Drift began to scramble up the wire. His tanks lurched in fear when he heard the vent below him starting to spin, his spark pulsing like mad. He was nearly passed the vent before him, but he could hear the motors starting to activate.

"You're nearly there," cried Rodimus, pulling the wire even faster.

Drift fumbled as he grabbed the ledge, pulling himself up. Rodimus dropped the wire and grabbed Drift's arms and pulled with all his might. He was almost out, just a little further and he'd be safe. However the vent came back on before Drift fully made it out, and it was followed by the sickening noise of metal flesh ripping.

A loud terrifying howl of pain echoed down the pipeline.

\---------------------------------------

Rodimus was fuming as he made his way to the meeting point for the job. Those fraggers had promised him that they would not turn the venting system back on until the pair of them came back. How could they do such a thing? They knew that the pair of them were down there in a dangerous place. Rodimus growled to himself as he visioned himself screaming words of rage and wrath at their employers.

"Rodimus, could you slow down a little?"

Gasping out loud, Rodimus looked over his shoulder. Drift had his arms wrapped round the red mech's throat, trying to keep his balance. He appeared exhausted and shaken, with mech blood splattered across his face.

"I'm sorry. Do you need a break?" asked Rodimus, filled with great concern.

"No, no," groaned Drift, "I'm ok."

"You just lost a leg, Drift," snapped Rodimus, clinging to the arms wrapped around his neck. "And you lost a lot of mech blood, so please tell me if you start to feel worse."

Drift grunted as he hobbled along. "Not gonna lie, but I would feel better if we saw a medic."

"As soon as we get our payment, we'll head straight to the closest one," promised Rodimus, continuing onward.

Rodimus wanted to get Drift treated immediately, but in order to do just that, they needed credits to pay for it. Rodimus recalled the moment the vent sliced one of Drift's legs off, the white mech screaming in agony as his mech blood gushed out of the stump his leg had become. Rodimus applied some basic first aid, but he never had experience with a whole missing limb, thus they needed a professional to reattach the leg. Unfortunately what was left of Drift's leg fell down the ventilation system, so they were going to need to buy a new one on top of that, and legs weren't cheap. As soon as they got the credits for this job, Rodimus was going to find the first medical clinic they come across and get his friend fixed.

It didn't take them long to reach the meeting point, and as soon as Rodimus spotted the contact standing nearby, he marched on over, with Drift hobbling behind him.

"What the slag is your problem!" shouted Rodimus, unleashing his fury upon the taller mech. "You said you wouldn't turn the vents back on until we came back!"

Their contact merely stared at him, ignoring Drift completely. "Look pal, you were taking far too long, and we were getting complaints from the citizens above. The moment you got rid of whatever it was that was blocking the vent, we had to turn them back on. The last thing we need is those Tower mechs complaining about the stink from this dump."

Rodimus growled, clenching his fists into trembling balls of rage. "My friend lost his leg because of you," he spat. "He nearly died, for the love of Primus. He needs medical attention and we need the credits to pay for it!"

The contact continued to show no sign of remorse. "Whatever, here's your payment," he grumbled, throwing a single ten credit chip at them.

"Ten credits!" snarled Rodimus, enraged beyond belief. "The job was for forty credits, you scumbag!"

"Well, you lost ten credits for taking too long, another ten for giving me attitude, and a further ten because I said so," sneered the contact. "You're lucky that I'm paying you at all, you little whore. Go get fragged if you need the credits so bad."

Rodimus wanted to punch him so bad, but Drift held him back. "Do you have any idea how much it costs to get a new leg and attach it?" he spat. "He needs to be treated asap, and we can't do it with ten credits alone!"

The contact shrugged and proceeded to leave. "Then dump him in a smelting pit or something, I don't care, I have a job to do." He walked off, snickering as he went.

Unable to contain himself, Rodimus attempted to run and attack him, but Drift held onto him tight. "Rodimus, he's not worth it," pleaded Drift. "There are enforcers nearby and if they see you attack a citizen from above, they will shoot you on site. Let's just hope we find a medic who is more charitable than him."

Trembling with rage, Rodimus picked up the credit chip and walked off. "I swear if those enforcers weren't around, I'd throw him down an active vent," he huffed.

"Let's just focus on the medic please," gasped Drift, feeling a little sick. "I'm not doing too well."

His attention now focused on Drift, Rodimus hauled him up onto his back and carried him as best he could. "Ok Drift, just hang on," he said. "We'll find you a medic who will help you, ok?"

The two began to wander around Dead End, looking for any medic who could help fix Drift. Unfortunately, the medics who dwelled within the slums charged a fortune for their services, and rarely displayed any pity for the less fortunate ones. The first medical clinic they stopped at refused them entry unless they paid a hundred credits up front. The second clinic offered to do the job, but only if they signed a contract to pay off the loan they would need for the procedure. The third one declared that unless they had the money, Drift was as good as dead.

It was getting late, and Rodimus grew desperate. Every where he went, Medics would charge him prices he wouldn't be able to afford. No matter how much he pleaded, no matter how much he begged, they would all refuse him and shun him. Looking over his shoulder, he cringed to see that Drift was starting to get drowsy, his optics flickering on and off. He lost a lot of mech blood when his leg was cut off, and the crude bandages he applied were no longer effective. They needed cash fast, or Drift wasn't going to make it.

Looking around in desperation, Rodimus spotted a dark alleyway that was home to a certain profession. Mechs who were garbed in cheap materials and covered with tacky paint jobs walked about the ally, posing in erotic ways and cooing at passer-by's. It was a buy-mech ally, filled with vain prostitutes and needy hookers. It reeked of sex and disease, a stench that brought back foul memories for Rodimus. He was about to walk off when Rodimus watched a client walked out of a building with some hooker, and handed over a large sum of credits. An idea crept into his mind, an idea he didn't like but an idea that would work.

Setting the inattentive Drift down in a safe looking doorway, he patted him on the helm. "Drift, I'll be right back, ok?" he said, his voice filled with uncertainty.

"Huh?" grunted Drift, struggling to stay online.

"I'm going to get the credits we need," promised Rodimus, not realising he was feeling sick. "I'll be as quick as I can."

Drift forced himself to look up, watching as Rodimus walked off. Confused, he looked over to where his friend was going, and the moment he saw the buy-mech ally, he realised what Rodimus was up to. Optics wide open in horror, Drift used his last remaining strength to leap up and grab Rodimus' legs. Rodimus yelped as he fell over, his face smacking the floor.

"Drift, get off me," demanded Rodimus, trying to free his trapped legs.

"No!" shouted Drift. "You are NOT going to do that! Not now, not ever!"

Rodimus continued to struggle. "Drift, you need medical help and we can't get it without credits," begged Rodimus. "I can get it! All I have to do is-"

"NO!" shouted Drift, even louder than before. "I'm not letting you do this."

As the two mechs continued to struggle in the dirt, a pair of enforcers walked upon the scene. The spectacle caught their attention and they came over to investigate. "The frag is this?" barked one of them. "Looks like the cripple couldn't afford the whore," laughed the other.

They reached down and pulled them apart, throwing Drift down onto the filthy ground and taking a firm hold of Rodimus. "Frag off cripple," snarled the first enforcer, kicking Drift in the face. "Go find one you can afford!" Drift snarled at him, but this only rewarded him with another kick to the face. "Hey, this whore is actually a looker," jeered the other one, cupping Rodimus' face roughly. "Hey sweet rims, I'll give you fifty credits for a little fun."

Drift looked up in horror to see that Rodimus appeared tempted by the offer. He didn't even decline it, but he did look uncertain about it. The first enforcer noticed Rodimus too and completely ignored Drift. "Frag, I'll give him a hundred for some kinky fun," he purred. They started to walk off, dragging a slightly reluctant Rodimus with them. "Come on sweet stuff, let's get us a room."

Finding what must have been the last drop of power he had left, Drift leapt up again, crashing onto Rodimus and releasing him from the grip of the two enforcers. Rodimus cried out as they both fell down a nearby ledge, tumbling through the air and landing into an crude oil pond. Hauling himself up, Rodimus gasped as the intoxicating smell nearly caused him to vomit.

"What the frag, Drift?" he cried, wiping the black filth off his body. "I could have gotten you the cash we needed to-" Rodimus looked over to see Drift was lying face down in the oil, and showed no sign of life. "Drift?" Panic took over and Rodimus quickly trudged over to him, hauling him out of the disgusting liquid. "Drift? Drift, say something!" Drift was unconscious, and his vitals weren't doing too good. More mech blood was seeping out of his wound and Rodimus feared the worst.

"Hey you slaggers," came a loud angry voice. Rodimus looked up to see the two enforcers looking down at them from the ledge. "Wait till we get down there! You are so dead!"

"Scrap," whimpered Rodimus. 

He looked around and saw a busy road at the end of an ally. If he could just get Drift over there, they could lose the angry Enforcers in the crowd. Carrying Drift as best as he could, he stumbled towards the ally. He could hear the enforcers shouting getting louder as he stumbled down the the narrow path. He was nearly there, just a few more feet.

The moment he stepped out the ally, the sound of screeching brakes filled the air. Rodimus looked up into a blinding light. "Scrap," he cried, shielding his optics and waiting for the inevitably outcome.

"Watch where you're going!" come a loud angry voice. Rodimus looked up to see that the vehicle had stopped just in time. Standing in its place was a tall white and red mech glaring down at them. "I could have run the pair of you down, you idiots," he snapped.

Rodimus cringed, but noticed the medic symbol imprinted on the red and white mech's shoulder. "H-hey, you're a medic right?" he asked.

"No, I'm a Apostle of Primus, of course I'm a medic," snapped the red and white mech.

Looking down the ally and spying the two enforcers from before, Rodimus grew desperate. "Look, my friend needs help and there's enforcers after us. I don't have a lot of credits but I promise I'll pay you back! Please! He'll die!"

The medic looked at Drift, only now noticing his missing leg and the poor attempt to bandage it. He also heard the sound of the approaching enforcers from the other end of the ally. "Primus, why me?" he muttered. He then transformed back into a large emergency vehicle. "Hurry and get in," he ordered, the back end opening up.

Rodimus scrambled into vehicle, dragging Drift with him. It was a tight squeeze as the door shut, but they were now safe and hidden. Sensing that they were moving, Rodimus sighed in relief.

"Just keep still back there, and keep an optic on his vitals," ordered the medic. "My clinic isn't that far away."

Sighing in relief, Rodimus relaxed and hugged Drift tight.

\---------------------------------------

Unsure of how much time had passed since riding inside the medic, Rodimus was about to ask where they were going, when they at last came to a stop. Rodimus clutched the unconscious Drift out of concern and waited for the next thing to happen. The vehicle opened up before he realised it and the red mech found they were in some strange room.

"Hurry up and get out of me," snapped the medic.

Rodimus was keen to give this medic a piece of his mind, but Drift was his top priority and he couldn't afford to get angry with their only hope. Climbing out of the medic, he quickly pulled Drift out and held him tight. The medic transformed and grabbed the unconscious mech from Rodimus, placing him on a nearby table, and switched on a bright light above the table.

As the medic examined Drift, Rodimus looked around. The room they were in was a rusted and covered in grime, but the shelves were littered with brand new bizarre tools and cases of strange looking chemicals. A functioning monitor sat upon a desk, which was covered in data pads. In fact, as he looked at the medic, he noticed how well polished his armour was and that it looked brand spanking new. 

"Are you from the slums?" asked Rodimus.

"No," replied the medic.

Confused, and slightly annoyed with the way he got his answer, Rodimus tried to probe further. "So, are you from up top?" he asked.

"Yes," replied the medic.

Rodimus bit his lip. "You don't have to be a jerk," he grumbled.

"Do you want me to save your friend?" snapped the medic.

Rodimus flinched and stepped back. Leaving the room, he looked around and spotted an empty corner he could sit in. Slouching over and hugging himself, he thought back to what happened outside the buy mech ally. It wasn't as if he wanted to whore himself out, but he had gotten so desperate that he was willingly to do it. Drift could have died for all he knew and the very idea terrified him. Though Drift actually tried to stop him from getting the money he needed to save him, Rodimus felt a little happy about it, but this also made him upset. 

Rodimus despised interfacing. To be more precise, he hated interfacing involving his valve. Growing up in a brothel, treated like a piece of property, and forced to do things he hated left some deep scars within him. Although he liked to act tough, deep down the very idea of sleeping with anyone terrified him. Every time someone tried to hit on him, he got scared and would quickly lash out to defend himself. That was why Drift stopped him, for Drift knew how much it scared him, and Rodimus felt thankful for that but he hated it as well. He hated that he was thankful for it. 

For what seemed like forever he sat alone in that small corner, waiting for something to happen, when something lightly kicked him.

"You awake?" Looking up, the medic stood over him with a data pad. "I had to get rid of an infection, give him some medical grade energon, build a new leg out of scrap and attach that to him, but it looks like he'll be ok." Rodimus sighed with relief, but the medic wasn't finished. "Is he a junkie?"

"He used to be," said Rodimus quickly. "He's clean now."

The medic merely nodded and wrote something down on the data pad. "There is some traces of circuit boosters in his system," muttered the medic. "What kind of detox medicine does he take?"

"Some cheap stuff we buy at the market," replied Rodimus. "Imported from up top."

The medic suddenly snorted, an amused look now spread across his face. "You actually believe that? That stuff they sell down here is just a cheap knockoff, it doesn't do jack."

Rodimus frowned. "What are we supposed to do?" he snapped. "We can't go up top to buy it and it's the only stuff we can get a hold off."

The medic just stared at him. "You're lucky I have the good stuff then, aren't you."

Rodimus was suddenly speechless. This medic possessed a good quality detox medicine? If Drift took that then it would help with his current withdrawal and maybe make him feel better. Still, something like that was going to be expensive. Heck, he didn't even ask how much Drift's operation cost.

"Look," started Rodimus, "I only have ten credits on me, but, um, I can pay you back in other ways... i-if you want."

The medic gave him a funny look. "I'm not into that kind of thing," he replied blandly. "Besides, you shouldn't be interfacing with anyone in your current condition." Rodimus seemed confused. "You have an ITD, and a bad one," continued the medic. "Thankfully I have the shot you need to get rid of it."

"How did you know," gasped Rodimus.

"I have advance sensors that can detect any kind of infection," explained the medic. "I would advise you take the shot now, for leaving it alone will only cause future problems."

Rodimus was completely lost. "We can't afford this," he whimpered. "I can pay you back, I promise but I can't afford any of of this right now."

The medic looked at him and huffed. "I'm not going to charge you," he stated.

That made Rodimus look up in shock. "What?"

"I'm not here to make a profit," explained the medic. "The whole reason I'm here is because a friend of mine informed me of the horrible lack of medical facilities down here. He had to close down these so called medical clinics that were scamming desperate mechs, and I came on my own free will to help the poor bots of these slums." 

Rodimus still seemed suspicious. "Why would a medic from up top care about us?" he snapped. "You snobs only care about us when you need us to do your dirty work, and then you stab us in the back just for laughs. The whole reason he lost his leg is because of you up top scum!"

The medic sighed, a tired frown forming on his face. "We're not all bad," he explained. "Many of us think that you lot are treated unfairly. Hell, Nova Prime was going to convince the Senate to change things down here for the better before he got sick. I just thought that I could make a little difference, try and make it easier for everyone down here." The medic moved over to a shelf, rummaging through some vials and bottles. "I have to keep a low profile," he continued, "It's actually against the law for a professional medic like myself to work down here. I need some sort of special permit or something, and it takes centuries to get one." He turned back to look at the red mech. "Anyway, one shot of this and your ITD will be as good as gone."

Rodimus flinched when he spotted the needle in the medic's hand. He wasn't a fan of needles, for reasons he did not want to explain. "D-does it have to be a shot?" he stammered.

"Directly into the valve I'm afraid," replied the medic. Rodimus groaned uncomfortably at the idea. "It will only hurt for a second, and it will knock you out for a bit, but by the time you wake up, your friend will be up himself."

Still uncertain, Rodimus twiddled his fingers out of fear. "Can I see Drift first?" he asked.

The medic nodded, ushering Rodimus to follow him. They walked back into the operating room, where Drift laid upon a table with a brand new leg fitted onto him. He was still unconscious, but to Rodimus' relief, he could see that he was doing much better than before. 

The medic then pulled another table out, wheeling it next to the one Drift laid upon. He looked up at Rodimus and patted it, signalling the red mech to hop on. "Will that really work?" asked Rodimus.

"This is the one and only shot that I give to anyone with an ITD," replied the medic. Looking back at Drift, Rodimus took a deep breath before hopping onto the berth. Keeping his optics locked onto the ceiling above him. He laid perfectly still as the medic moved down to his lower body. "I need you to open your plating down here," the medic requested.

Rodimus felt his cheeks flare up as he slowly parted his legs. His plating hadn't retracted yet. "It won't take long right?" he stammered.

The medic was quiet for a moment. "Just to confirm, are you still... um... are still conducting interfacing activities?"

"No," replied Rodimus sharply. "I quit a long time ago."  
The medic was quiet once more. He broke the silence, "Do you suffer from interfacing trauma?" The medic's tone was a little softer now.

"A-a little," snapped Rodimus, "look, I'm not here for therapy, ok? Just get it over with, medic."

The medic sighed. "My name is Ratchet," he said, almost trying to sound like he cared. "And I promise this will only hurt for second, so can you please open your panel. We can wait for your friend to wake up?"

Rodimus shook his head in response, not wanting Drift to look at him whilst he had such a thing done. Closing his optics, Rodimus cringed as he opened his plating, exposing his valve. He shuddered as he felt the medic's hand on his thigh. "Sharp scratch now," warned the medic.

Rodimus gasped as he felt a small sharp stab deep within his valve. It stung like mad and it reminded Rodimus of a horrible memory. Just like the medic had promised, the pain quickly subsided, but now he was feeling light headed.

"Now you're going to black out in a bit, but you shouldn't be out that-..."

The medic's voice became disoriented and everything became a blur. Looking over the room, Rodimus saw Drift lying peacefully on the table next to him before everything turned black.


End file.
